Angel with a Broken Watch
by cruiscin lan
Summary: Her father thought it was in her best interest to forget everything... the Haitian is sent to erase the memories of her mistake. Elle/Gabriel, spoilers for episode 3.08 and AU from there.
1. Prologue

**Author's note:** This story came out of speculation that the Noah Gray we saw four years into the future is older than four years old. While this is probably a case of kindergarten-style Dawson casting, I was inspired to come up with a way to explain it if he was older. Anyway, I expect this whole thing to get jossed in the next few new episodes. The timeline probably wouldn't work out for this anyway!

And also super-special thanks to aurilly on livejournal for high-fives and hand-holding.

Angel with a Broken Watch

_"It's in her best interest, you know."_

The Haitian folded his hands before him, bowing his head, reflecting on the words of Bob Bishop. When he had gone into the office of the regional manager of Primatech Paper, he'd had no idea about the nature of this top-secret assignment. As it turned out, the nature of the assignment was intensely personal. The Haitian felt like an intruder in the small room - a cell, really. The odor of salt and iron and earth was so intense that he could taste it in the air.

_"She really screwed the pooch on this one, so to speak," Bishop explained. "She doesn't need this on her employment record, and there's no reason she needs to remember the incident at all."_

The Haitian stood as far from the hustle and bustle of the room as possible, his back against the cold metal of the door. He was surrounded by medical equipment, machines that beeped and ticked and spouted out records and measurements.

_"There are two things I need you to do. Firstly, you need to suppress her power. If she were to damage or destroy all that medical equipment, well... that would be hard to cover up." Bishop paused for a moment, adding "And make sure she doesn't hurt herself, or anyone else," as an afterthought._

The bed was in the center of the room, where Bob Bishop's daughter sweated and strained. Her hair clung to her haggard face, and her eyes lacked their usual verve. But she was Daddy's girl, a tough one, trained to work through self-inflicted pain her entire life, and even as she groaned and sighed she refused to shed a tear or utter a word.

_"More importantly, though, I want you to erase all of her memories about this. They'll only hurt her to think about them." Bob Bishop smiled crookedly, cheerlessly. "Start from the beginning of that first assignment, and take everything - ieverything/i - up to this point. Understand?"_

The Haitian wondered if Elle had even registered his arrival; she certainly hadn't acknowledged it. Dr. Zimmerman had looked at him with an expression that spoke at once of confusion and familiarity; the Haitian had already removed so many of his memories that it was a wonder that the man was still able to perform his job at all. There was a nurse there as well; she was a plain-faced woman who held Elle's hand and stroked her face, feeding her ice cubes at irregular intervals, without any sort of recognition or appreciation from the patient.

_"Erase their memories, too. Once Elle is out of danger, of course, but make sure you get it done."_

A wail pierced the still, silent air; it was a boy. Elle retreated back into the pillows behind her as the infant was swept away to be cleaned and examined. "Can I see him?" she whispered; weary as she was, her voice retained its sing-song quality. "It's a boy, isn't it? I knew it all along." Her eyes regained their focus as she relaxed. Scanning the room lazily, looking for the child, she recognized the Haitian for the first time since he entered the room. Her expression turned from one of stoic accomplishment to one of horrific realization. "No," she told him, tears suddenly springing to her eyes. "Please, no... I don't want to forget him..."

_If only you knew how far your father's cruelty extended_, he thought as he moved to the side of the bed, gently cupping Elle's face in his palm, stroking her cheek with his thumb. It was a gesture he'd practiced on her many, many times before, starting when she was just eight and he, not much older. This was Elle as he knew her best - broken, exhausted, weeping, pushed to the very edge of human desperation.

"Please," she repeated, plaintive and pleading. "Please let me remember him."

_"It's in her best interest, you know."_

One at a time he took her memories from her, turning them over in his own mind, examining each of them carefully, the way a jeweler examines a diamond of endless value. He took in every detail, every minor aspect, and made it his own. If she couldn't remember, the least he could do would be to remember for her.


	2. Chapter 1

_He had been told to remove Elle's memories. The order had come from Bob Bishop himself._

_One at a time the Haitian took them from her, turning them over in his own mind, examining each of them carefully, the way a jeweler examines a diamond of endless value. He took in every detail, every minor aspect, and made it his own. If she couldn't remember, the least he could do would be to remember for her._

When Elle had been told her first assignment was in New York City, she had something else entirely pictured. She imagined that it would be glamorous, that every person on the street would look like an impeccably-dressed supermodel, that the streets would be wide and inviting and that even the dullest things - the taxi cabs, the hot dog carts - would glitter. She hadn't expected to be pursuing her target in this grimy, claustrophobic Queens neighborhood, where apartments were stacked over storefronts almost haphazardly.

Noah Bennet, her partner, was waiting in a Primatech Paper van down the block and across the street. "Be careful," he had warned her, and even though he didn't care much for her, his words held more warmth than anything her father ever said to her. He had drilled her repeatedly on the scenario - all she needed to do was go in with the broken watch and engage the target while Bennet set up a surveillance system outside. What they needed, ultimately, was to catch a killer in action. Another agent, Eden McCain, had reported that Gabriel Gray was connected with a murder. Eden's evidence was circumstantial and shaky, but ordinarily that wouldn't stop the Company from apprehending and imprisoning someone. Something about the watchmaker's son merited greater caution, although Elle could only speculate as to what that "something" could be. Whatever it was, she had been warned specifically not to use her powers except for self-defense (a pity, she thought).

She stopped at the window that declared "Gray & Sons Clock and Watch Repair," shiny and clean and out-of-place in the neighborhood. Elle could make out her reflection in the glass, a reminder that she also didn't belong there. She leaned forward and cupped her hand around her eyes in order to look in.

She let herself in; a bell on the door tingled cheerfully. "Hello?" she called out. The interior was dark, and as she squinted, she could make out the form of a man through a pane of translucent glass in the back corner. He was... dangling... hanging...

"Oh, hell no," Elle thought. This was her first assignment, and she wasn't about to let her target ruin it before she even got started. If he died before she'd even made contact...

_The Haitian remembered how excited Elle had been to finally be promoted from Company subject to Company agent. She'd invested so much time and energy in preparing for this. The Haitian had seen how her father's approval tied directly into her abilities and achievements, and nothing meant more to her..._

Without thinking she sent a tiny bolt of electricity through the air. It connected just where the noose met the rafter to which it was tied. The rope crackled a little, then snapped. The man gasped as he hit the floor.

She ran to the back corner, behind the counter, where the man had fallen. Together they struggled to loosen the rope around his neck. "Are you all right?" she asked, feigning concern. "Say something."

His eyes darted wildly behind his glasses. "Forgive me," he stuttered, leaning in towards her. Elle didn't know what to do but pull him into an awkward embrace.

The man coughed a few times, shifting on the floor until he was sitting upright, back against the counter. He shook his head as he caught his breath. He pulled the noose over his head and let it drop to the floor beside him. He sat there in silence for a minute, and Elle crouched down beside him. She quickly became bored with the quiet, and she picked up the rope and examined it - a kitten playing with a ball of yarn. "It's okay, everything's going to be okay," she told him bluntly, trying to mask her voice with worry.

"No it isn't. I've done something unforgiveable," he tried to explain, unable to look her in the eye.

Elle suddenly remembered her assignment. She certainly hadn't expected to walk in on a suicide attempt; whatever scenarios she'd rehearsed were now useless, and she was being forced to improvise. "Everybody does bad things," she told him, the words coming forth clumsily. "Think I haven't felt exactly how you're feeling right now?"

_Human interaction was never Elle's forte, the Haitian thought. Gabriel Gray was obviously not convinced._

Elle tried again. "Maybe if you talk about it, sometimes if you talk about it - "

"I can't!" he interjected, looking up at her for the first time since she arrived. He looked trapped, cornered by his own desperation. "A man had something I wanted, but I took it at a terrible price."

Elle nodded. This was the confirmation she needed to attain. Now all she had to do was to get him to do it again, on-camera... but that would be impossible if he killed himself first. She leaned in closely. "I know it seems hard to imagine, but you're going to get through this." She put a hand on his knee, and he turned to meet her eyes. "Because you're not a bad person."

"You don't even know anything about me," he sounded scared, confused.

"I know what I see," she replied. "A man who deserves a second chance. The rope _broke_. You can't tell me that's not a sign."

He smiled, almost relieved, almost hopeful. "I don't even know your name."

"Elle," she said with a lilt in her voice.

"Elle," he repeated. "Well, look at you, Elle, just showing up outta nowhere." He paused. "Like an angel."

She smiled, holding up the timepiece she'd brought. "An angel with a broken watch."

_Now Elle would never be able to look back and remember the first time she met Gabriel Gray. The Haitian pressed on..._


	3. Chapter 2

_Once the Haitian removed the memory of Elle's first time meeting Gabriel Gray, he moved on to some of the less interesting aspects of the assignment - logistical issues, lodging, a case of lost luggage, bickering with Bennet. These memories weren't important; even without his interference, Elle probably wouldn't think back to these memories ever again. But the Haitian still handled them with care, out of a concern he couldn't quite name. _

"Special just the way you are. I was afraid you were about to burst into song."

Elle was practically skipping down the street, exhilirated by a sense of accomplishment, a sense of connection, when Bennet's comment struck her down from her emotional high. "Just trying to win his trust," she rationalized, half to her partner and half to herself.

But Bennet was all business. "We're stalling out here; we need to kick it into high gear."

Elle didn't like the sound of that. "I don't think he's going to kill again. I really think we should look into someone else from this list." She held out the crumpled piece of stationery she had pulled from the garbage can, offering it to Bennet as though it were a consolation prize.

"No, we're sticking with the plan. Mr. Gray is a killer - we _know_ that. The only question is, will we witness the act, or will he do it in a dark alley somewhere?"

"But what if we're wrong? What if his suicide attempt was a wake-up call?"

"You like this guy! Awwww. Isn't that adorable. You think he's sweet, is that it?" Bennet turned his attention to the list Elle had given him. "How about this one? Trevor Zeitlan?"

It took a moment for Elle to understand the gist of Bennet's sinister suggestion. "I'm not gonna do it."

"We need to see him kill."

"I am not going to do it!"

"All right. If that's how you feel -" He opened the back of the van and found Elle's coat, tossing it at her, nonchalant. "Here, go ahead, go on! New York City, you could, I don't know, become a waitress?"

Elle had no retort. She sighed and looked down at the ground.

"We have orders, Elle. You don't follow orders, you're not an agent. You're not an agent, you're on your own." He set his hands on her shoulders - a gesture of reassurance, encouragement, a gesture that she wasn't buying.

"Fine," she spat out, petulant. "Then I'm not an agent anymore." She shook his hands away and put on the coat.

"Excuse me?" Bennet was taken aback - that obviously hadn't been the reaction he'd been going for.

"I. Quit."

Bennet narrowed his eyes. "We're in the middle of a mission. You can't just do that." He spoke slowly, as though his words were far beyond Elle's comprehension.

"You practically _told_ me to. I'm done with this. I'm going to be a damn waitress, if that's what it's going to take." She walked to the back of the van and struggled with her suitcase, tugging at it before it fell out of the van on its own.

"And where exactly do you intend to go?" Bennet asked. "Back in there - back to that killer?"

"He's not a killer," Elle mumbled.

"Your father is going to be very disappointed in you."

"Well. He's your problem now," Elle hissed. But Bennet's comment had struck an unfortunate chord in her psyche. She had quit on a whim to spite Bennet and possibly save Gabriel - she hadn't been considering her father's reaction at all. She paused for a moment as she straightened her coat, wondering at how exactly her father would react. It was not a happy thought. Still, she was stubborn - after all, Bennet had a lesson to learn. And he was her father - he would understand, right? She stalked towards Gabriel Gray's apartment without looking back.

_The Haitian now remembered a phone call he had overheard in Bob Bishop's office; he'd only heard one side, but now it made so much more sense._

_"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Noah, you still have the place under surveillance. Well, it will happen eventually, you'll just have to spend more time... She's a big girl, Bennet, she can take care of herself... well, in that case, at least you'll have a salvageable mission."_

_At times like these he wished he could effectively erase his own mind._

She hit a button - apartment 1B - and fidgeted impatiently as she waited for a reply.

"Hello?" Gabriel's voice crackled through the intercom. "Who's there?"

"It's me again," she said, leaning into wall as she spoke. "Elle."

The door buzzed, and Elle pushed her way through, dragging her suitcase behind her as she navigated up stairs and through the halls to Gabriel's door.

"Did you forget something?" He opened the door, smiling at first, but his expression quickly became confused when he noticed the coat and the suitcase.

"It's a long story," she told him in lieu of an actual explanation. "Is it all right if I crash here - just for now?"

Gabriel was hesitant. He bit his lip and glanced around his apartment, as though the answer was inside somewhere, hiding. He'd become so accustomed to living alone. Everything was neat, tidy, organized - just how he preferred it. On the other hand, here was the prettiest girl who he'd ever talked to, someone who'd helped him more than she could ever know.

Elle tensed up, nervously waiting for his reply. If he didn't assent, then she'd be hanging her head as she walked back to Primatech van. She couldn't let Bennet have that satisfaction, nor could she express to Gabriel what he could be risking by turning her down.

"S...s...sure," he stuttered, finally.

Elle beamed and dropped the suitcase, throwing her arms around Gabriel's neck. "Thank you, Gabriel! You're a lifesaver!" she gushed.

"No, _you_ are," he replied. "Anything for you." His arms were practically shaking -_ with fear? with emotion? with excitement?_ - as he returned her embrace.


	4. Chapter 3

Angel With a Broken Watch, Chapter 3

They finished off the whole pie and chatted more, sitting together cross-legged on the floor, for hours. Elle mostly listened, afraid that Gabriel would ask questions she couldn't answer - she hadn't quite worked out her story yet. Somehow the hours past, and when they realized how late it was, Gabriel insisted that Elle take the bed.

"I sleep in my chair most nights anyway - you know, doze off while reading late," he explained, although the blush in his cheeks betrayed him.

He was also betrayed by the squeaking of cloth against plastic throughout the night. Elle pretended to be sleeping, listening to Gabriel struggle to get comfortable.

_He's such a sweet guy,_ she thought to herself as she watched him in the dim illumination of the streetlights outside. _I can't imagine him even hurting a fly. _She ran her hands along the hollows in the bed where the springs sank and stuck - his indentation, his impression. _No one has ever been so nice to me._

When the clock next to the bed indicated that it was 2 a.m., and Gabriel was still unsuccessfully trying to sleep on the chair, Elle got out from under the covers and padded quietly over to him, setting her hand on his shoulder.

He jumped at her touch. "Oh, Elle," he said, reaching for his glasses on the shelf nearby. "I was... I was sleeping."

"No, you weren't," she told him. "Take the bed. I'll sleep on the chair."

"But... you're a guest."

"Then let's share it. I wouldn't mind," she smiled, a little flirtatious.

"Oh, that... that wouldn't be..." he stuttered, searching for an appropriate excuse. "It's a twin. There's no room for two."

Elle nearly regretted her suggestion; she didn't want him to think less of her. "Come on, Gabriel! You're not going to be able to sleep at all tonight if you keep being so stubborn." She took his hand and pulled him towards her, twisting around him, unintentionally forcing him into an awkward embrace. For a moment they both stood still; he, almost holding her, and she, almost being held.

"I've never liked anyone so much as I like you," he said suddenly, stepping back from Elle and letting his arms fall to his sides. "It's not that I don't want to sleep with you. I mean, I'd like to sleep with you. I mean, I don't want to... I want to respect you. You deserve your space."

Elle turned towards him, letting her palms run reassuringly over his shoulders, his arms, his chest. "I don't deserve anything, Gabriel. You've been more than kind to me." She looked up at him, her chin on his chest, her eyes watery with either lack of sleep or with emotion - it was impossible to tell which.

"That's because I like you, Elle," he replied.

"No, that's because you're a good person," she corrected.

He sighed and smiled. "I'm going back to sleep. On the chair."

"Then I'm going with you," she replied. As he sat down, the plastic crumpled; Elle squeezed in beside him, wrapping herself around him.

Neither of them got any sleep that night, but they were both too bashful to admit it to one another.

_The Haitian stopped for a moment, pulling his hand away from Elle's pallid face. She let her head sink into her pillow, eyes closed. The Haitian couldn't tell if she was awake or asleep. He delicately brushed away a wisp of hair that had fallen into her mouth and wondered at how strong and how stubborn she could be in one moment, and how vulnerable the next. _

_He paused because of the image of Elle and Gabriel, now Sylar, entangled in one another; it bothered the Haitian for reasons he couldn't understand. He told himself it was because he knew it would end badly: at that moment, in the memory he'd seen, they could have been happy, but something had to have gone very wrong to lead Elle back to the Company, and to lead Sylar to become a killer again._

_But the image of Elle with Gabriel had a stronger effect on the Haitian; it made his blood run hot, it made his throat tighten, it made his skin crawl with anger and resentment and... jealousy?_

The next morning Elle made toast and remembered the camera hidden away in the electrical socket. While Gabriel was in the shower (he tried insisting that she go first, but she reminded him that he had to open the shop) she flicked her wrist and zapped the camera into dust. Now if she could only remember where the other cameras were hidden...

"What do you plan to do now?" Gabriel asked as he emerged from the bathroom, hair wet and glasses off but otherwise impeccably dressed.

"I... uh... what?" Elle stammered, her thoughts interrupted.

Gabriel awkwardly leaned against the counter, trying not to let her catch him looking at her; he was entranced, enchanted, amazed that she was still there. "I mean - what are you going to do? You're welcome to stay here as long as you need, I'm just..."

"I need to find a new job," she told him. "I guess I gotta hit the streets."

"Well, after you've done that, would you like to stop by the shop and we could go for lunch? There's a great falafel place around the corner."

"I'd like that," Elle replied.

_But she wouldn't remember her first real date, just like she wouldn't remember ever having ridden a roller coaster or going swimming. The Haitian held on to those memories, too, and only now was he beginning to understand why._


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Last update before Thanksgiving, guys. Have a safe and happy holiday.

When Elle found a job at a diner on Queens Boulevard, Gabriel made it a point to stop by everyday, asking to sit in her section. If he was there before lunch he'd get waffles; if not then he'd get peach pie for dessert.

"Your boyfriend is here," the hostess would tell Elle as she ran back and forth between the booths and the kitchen, trying not to screw anything up or get distracted.

_Boyfriend?_

At that point Elle could safely say they were roommates, but that was the only label she could use with certainty. She had gotten an air mattress and insisted he take his bed back, for one thing, but Gabriel still made her feel completely welcome. Were they roommates who often went out together? Roommates who perhaps showed a little more affection than most?

"Elle, do you have a minute?" he asked as she brought him a menu. "I'd like to ask you something."

"Specials today are the deluxe Reuben sandwich and the meatloaf platter."

"That's not what I was going to ask. I'd like you to meet my mother."

Slack-jawed, Elle cast her eyes down in uncertainty. She thought of her own father, who would most certainly be disappointed in the way her life was turning out. She wondered if he missed her. She wondered if he cared. "I don't know, Gabriel..."

"I've already told her all about you."

Elle didn't know how to say no, so she said yes instead.

But the meeting with Mrs. Gray did not go as well as Gabriel clearly thought it would; it was less a "meet the folks" dinner as it was a "she's not good enough for you, Gabriel, and this is my opportunity to point out to you all of her flaws" dinner. While Elle marveled at all the tchotchkes in the living room, she overheard Mrs. Gray list to her son all the reasons she was wrong for him.

"You don't know anything about her, Gabriel. She could be trouble. What kind of girl moves in with a guy she's barely just met?"

"She's helped me out so much more than you would understand, Mother," Gabriel replied.

"You're special, Gabriel," Virginia said, cradling her son's face in her hands. "You deserve better."

_Better._ It was a word Elle had grown used to hearing, but for some reason it still managed to sting every time. Elle had been exhausted by the effort of keeping up appearances at dinner. She'd smiled as she lied about herself and her background, trying her best not to slip up. She'd cheerfully submitted to each of Mrs. Gray's probing questions. But she could have done _better_.

They walked back to 1146 Trenton Place, apartment 1B, in silence. "She liked you," Gabriel finally said to her as he let her in ahead of him.

"Not for you, she didn't," Elle snapped back. "But really, who could blame her? I'm a total screw-up in every way."

"You're not a screw-up at all," he replied. "You're a good person in rough circumstances."

"Your mother didn't see it that way."

"My mother has no idea what I've done," his voice hitched as he blushed with guilt and shame. "And she has no idea what you've done for me. Elle, you're the only reason I'm still alive..."

"Don't," Elle whispered as he wrapped his hands around the back of her neck. "I'm not in the mood."

He ignored her and pulled her towards him, kissing her forcefully. She nearly fell backwards from its intensity. "You convinced the that I was special, Elle," Gabriel whispered, placing his forehead on hers, their breaths mingling. "How can I convince you that you are, too?"

"But I'm not," Elle protested, thinking of her father and her old life and how she was never good enough in that one, either.

"But you are," Gabriel repeated, and suddenly the buttons on Elle's blouse began undoing themselves on their own.

Elle lifted her head, meeting Gabriel's gaze. "Really?" she asked, her voice sincere and shaky.

"Let me show you," Gabriel replied.

_... he pulled his hand away. Elle's skin had been cold and clammy under his touch, and yet his palms were sweating. That was too much... too personal... too... emotional..._

_He looked away from Elle, trying to regain a sense of mental balance. He felt as though he'd been gone inside her mind for days, when in reality moments had barely passed. The infant was being cleaned by the nurse, while Dr. Zimmerman checked and double-checked the monitors._

_The Haitian had two choices. He could go back and erase the memory, witnessing the intimacy of Elle and Gabriel, intruding on a private moment in the past. It made him sick to think about it - both the idea Elle and Gabriel together in that way, and the thought of having to watch it all unfold in his mind._

_And so he went with his second option - he left it alone, a half-erased memory of a beautiful moment. He didn't know what the repercussions would be, erasing all the love and leaving in the sex, but he didn't care. He couldn't watch it. He couldn't bear to._

_And so, when he delicately placed his hand back on her forehead, he moved onwards to another time, another memory..._

Somehow they both managed to not only fit on Gabriel's twin-sized bed, but they also got a good night's sleep.

"Guess it's true what they say about exercise before bed," Elle teased. She lay curled against him, her back to his chest, his arms wrapped around her. As the gray light emanated in though the kitchen windows, she played with his hands, so much bigger than hers, tracing the lines of his palms and wondering what was written there.

"I meant what I said last night," Gabriel said, his voice low and soothing. "I meant every word. Elle, you're special, really special, to me at least. I think I love you."

Elle dropped his hands suddenly and drew her own arms into her chest. _That _hadn't been part of the plan, _this_ hadn't been part of the plan... All she had wanted to do was save his soul, like the angel he thought her to be, when in reality she was more broken than anyone else.

"I think I love you to," she said back, meekly, because she didn't know what else to say.


	6. Chapter 5

Gabriel had his life under control, his _hunger _under control, so long as he was with Elle. She had no problem keeping herself under control; after all, she'd been trained for just that since she was four. Her power was something she relished, but she was also perfectly okay with restricting it when she was with him. After all, her life (and his) depended on it; if her power were discovered, he would covet it, and that covetousness might overpower the care he had for her.

So when she started to lose control over her ability, she began to worry.

She knew that when she didn't feel well, like when she was sick or injured or tired or in a bad mood, her power had a tendency to act up. After work she'd feel exhausted, almost faint, without explanation - even after slow days. She was feeling sore in ways and places she never had before. When she and Gabriel were amorous, he'd laugh and say "That tingles!" and she'd pretend she didn't know what he was talking about.

There had been a few even closer calls. He was used to showering before her in the morning, but several times she beat him to the bathroom after waking up nauseated. Heaving over the toilet, she could feel sparks trace their way across her face, and she was dreadfully afraid of Gabriel finding her out.

_Her fear was so great that the Haitian could feel it - it left a sensation like invisible bugs crawling across his skin. It felt like she was standing at the precipice of a terrifying downward spiral. The Haitian found Elle's memories cycling around this deepening sense of anxiety. The more her power acted up, the more frightened she became, and the more her fear grew, the more her electricity found ways to express itself unexpectedly._

While making toast one morning, Elle shorted the outlet behind the counter. "I don't know what happened," she lied through tendrils of smoke when Gabriel emerged from the bathroom, freshly showered and fully dressed.

"Don't worry about it," he told her as he kissed her on the forehead. "After work today, I was thinking you could bring home some pie, and I'll rent a movie, and then we can..." He let his thought dangle in the air as he caressed Elle's face, his eyebrows peaked in an expression of lusty hopefulness.

"I don't feel like it today," Elle muttered. "I don't feel well."

Gabriel blushed. "Oh, is it... is it _that time of the month?_"

The look on his face was adorable, Elle thought, but she struggled to smile. His words were a stark reminder of what _should _be the case, but wasn't. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek, hoping he wouldn't notice how agitated she was.

"I'll rent a movie anyway," he told her, his cheeks still scarlet. "I'll stop by for lunch. See you later."

But when he left, Elle didn't go to work. Instead she wandered into the 7 train and didn't get off until she no longer recognized where she was, where Gabriel couldn't possibly run into her. She found herself on Roosevelt Avenue, surrounded by Indian restaurants and sari shops. She walked until she found a pharmacy, where she ducked in to make a purchase.

The aisle wasn't hard to find, and she didn't waste time comparison shopping. She simply grabbed one off the shelf and took it directly to the counter. She didn't look up as she shoved a handful of bills at the cashier. The longer this took, the more nervous she got; it took all of her self-control to keep from sparking the cashier as he handed back her change. She shoved the receipt and change into her pocket and headed to the back of the store where she had seen a sign for the restrooms.

The bathroom was awful. Paper towels were strewn across the floor, with grime caked up in every corner. One toilet was clogged with waste, another stall had no toilet paper. Through the process of elimination Elle found herself in the handicapped stall, her heart pounding in her ears. She thought the smell of stale urine would kill her before the test turned blue, or pink, or showed stripes, or whatever the hell it was supposed to do.

She had never been more scared in her life than when she compared the stick to the back of the box it came in.

_Pregnant._

She shuddered as volts escaped from her hands, sizzling across puddles of moisture on the floor. Elle grabbed the handicapped bar in front of her to keep her balance, catch her breath, think for a second - but blue sparks danced across the bar, reaching upwards and outwards, reaching across any and all available surfaces. In a moment's time she had shorted out the lights, and was left shivering in the darkness.

She stumbled out of there, not even daring to wash her hands for fear of what might happen if she tried. She blinked for a moment as her eyes adjusted from the darkness to light, her mind racing. For the first time since she could remember since she'd caused that blackout in Ohio, her powers were out of control.

She couldn't go to work like this. She couldn't go back to _Gabriel_ like this - if he knew, then he might... and she'd... she didn't want to think about what would happen. She panicked. With the change in her pocket she made a phone call to the only person she thought she could depend on, the only person who might know what to do.

"Daddy?" she whimpered into the pay phone. "Daddy, I'm sorry. I made a mistake. I don't know what to do."

Within an hour she was on a Metro-North train to Hartsdale, where Daddy was waiting at the regional offices of Primatech Paper.


	7. Chapter 6

The placard on the desk read "Bob Bishop - Regional Manager" but his office and and attitude were more fitting with those of a tyrant. His darkly stained desk, his luxurious leather chair, bookshelves built into the walls that reached to the ceiling - all of these undeniable signs of wealth. He lazily played with a pencil in his hands as he awaited Elle's arrival, watching it slowly turn to gold from one end to the other.

_With a power like his, one would think his daughter wouldn't want for anything, the Haitian thought. How ironic._

She came in without knocking, a flurry of electrical activity crippling her as she staggered to his desk. She grabbed the corner of its oaken surface to keep from falling.

"Well, well, well, Elle," Bob said, not even looking up to see the pain in his daughter's face. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Daddy, I said I was sorry," Elle gasped. "You have to help me."

"That's where you're mistaken." He set the pencil down delicately, setting his palms flat on the desk and turning his gaze slowly, deliberately, to meet Elle's. "I don't _have_ to do anything, Elle. The moment you quit, all of my obligations to you as your superior were dissolved."

"But you're my father - "

"Don't interrupt, Elle, you know how that irks me. Now, I didn't invite you back here because you're a capable agent. All you've done has been to prove the opposite. I'm very disappointed in you, Elle - especially after all the trouble I went through raising you, after your mother died..."

"Daddy, I'm _sorry_," Elle sighed, leaning towards him as she maintained a tenuous grasp on the edge of his desk.

"I invited you back because the Company has already invested so much in you - your training, your power. It would be remiss of me as regional manager to allow that investment to go _completely_ to waste."

Elle shivered with the voltage that ran down her spine. "What can I do? What can I do to make it up to you?" Elle's desperation crept showed through the cracks in her voice, the unevenness of her tempo while speaking. "Daddy, I'm in pain. You _have_ to make it stop."

Bob glared over the rims of his glasses; for a moment Elle would have though he was reading her mind somehow. "What _is_ going on with you, Elle?" he asked, as though he was noticing the way sparks pulsed across the surface of her skin for the first time.

"I think it's because I'm..." The word she wanted caught in her throat, and she stammered; with each pause another small electrical outburst shocked her. "I'm... I'm pr... I don't know what to do."

"You've always had such precision with your power, Elle," Bob tsk-tsked. "I don't believe that you'd suddenly lose control like this. I suspect this is just cry for attention."

"No, Daddy," Elle whimpered, doing her best not to cry.

_Always Daddy's tough little girl, thought the Haitian._

Bob opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a plastic card, sliding it over to Elle. "All of your belongings have been moved here. I want you to go there and wait until further instruction."

"Daddy..." A million questions raced in Elle's mind. _Did you miss me at all? Aren't you curious as to what I've been up to? How do I tell you the trouble I'm in?_ She snatched the card and stood up straight. "Fine," she spat back. She steeled herself against the pain as she strode back towards the door of her father's office, her resolve strengthening with every step. If he didn't want to know, then she wasn't going to tell him. A little voice in the back of her head reminded her _He's going to find out eventually, one way or another_ but she drowned it out with the sound of the slamming door.

The room number and location was written on one side of the card; the other side had a magnetic strip, like a hotel key. She didn't have to think twice about which direction to turn once she left the regional manager's office; she knew the layout of the building like the back of her hand. In the moment it took her to read the card, however, a familiar voice echoed from down the hall.

"Well, well, well, look who's made it back into the fold," Noah Bennet smiled sinisterly. "The prodigal daughter returns."

Elle sneered. She had half a mind to shock him to kingdom come, until she noticed the Haitian walking one step behind Bennet. "New partner?"

"They've decided to go back to the 'one of us, one of them' rule," Bennet replied. "Instead of the 'one of us, one crazy person who falls for targets and sabotages assignments' rule."

"I've got places to be," Elle hissed as she turned on her heel and started walking in the opposite direction, occasionally staggering as her power expressed itself unexpectedly.

_Bennet had watched her struggle down the hallway for just a moment before letting himself into Bob Bishop's office. The Haitian, however, was transfixed by the image of Elle grappling with her out-of-control ability. He'd always felt compassion towards her as a little girl, when he had erased one memory after another at her father's request - memories of experimentation, of torture, of being pushed to limits and then being forced beyond them._

_The meeting with Bishop had seemed unimportant at the time; it was about increasing surveillance on some target named Gabriel Gray, whose name had been completely unfamiliar to the Haitian at the time._

Elle's new quarters were positively spartan; the room was only as long as the bed, with the dresser squeezed into a recessed closet with no door. It looked like it had been nothing more than a maintenance closet before. Still, Elle tried her best to make herself comfortable, reclining on the itchy blanket and closing her eyes. Electricity still jolted her as her thoughts moved from one of her fears to another.

And then, suddenly, the pain stopped. For the first time in weeks, it was completely gone. She stopped shocking herself, she stopped unwittingly emitting sparks. For a moment she lay in wonder at this sudden stop, but she was quickly overcome with a sleep deeper than she had had in a long time.

_She hadn't ever known, but the Haitian had been standing just on the other side of her door, hand against its flat surface, suppressing her power to stop her pain._


	8. Chapter 7

_The Haitian could only imagine what Gabriel Gray had done the day Elle returned to Primatech. He could only imagine Gabriel's worried expression when the hostess at the diner told him that Elle never made it to work that day. He could only imagine Gabriel hurrying home, hoping to find her there. He could only imagine Gabriel, frantic, trying to figure out if she had left him, gotten lost, gotten hurt._

_This the Haitian knew for certain: apparently Gabriel wanted to find her, and he knew of a person on Chandra's list with just the power he needed. Later that day Sylar was reborn when he killed the parents of Molly Walker, because he coveted her clairvoyance._

_But he wasn't supposed to be thinking of Gabriel Gray, wondering how he'd turned into Sylar once again. He had a job to do - erasing Elle's memories - and he went back to where he had left off in order to get the job done._

It had been the most restful and refreshing sleep of her life. For some reason, her backfiring ability seemed to shut down long, and now that she was feeling better, her electricity was under control. In fact, she'd only woken up because her stomach was painfully empty, and she realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten.

Judging from the soft light that streamed in through the room's high, barred window, it was morning. Elle sat up in bed and tried to determine if any part of the past few weeks had been a dream. But she was still dressed in the black skirt, white blouse, and Pepto-Bismol pink bow tie she'd worn as a waitress, and she sighed and shuddered when she considered her circumstances.

At least her father had been courteous enough to leave her some clothes in the dresser; it was almost like he had expected her to come back. It reminded her of all the ways he'd kept her wings clipped. She couldn't survive on her own out there, and he knew it. The mere thought made Elle dry heave.

She took a long, hot shower to help clear her head. She needed to figure out what to do. She didn't have many options (not that she ever really did) but she needed to determine the best way to proceed. Now that she was back at the Company, she knew there were resources available to her that she could count on. Medical facilities, for example, but more importantly: the Company cafeteria. Elle was _ravenous_ now.

She got dressed quickly and went to grab a bite. It was never very crowded; it was really only there for the chronic workaholics and the super-powered residents of the Hartsdale facility. There were some new faces in the cafeteria, but she recognized most people, and they seemed to recognize her as well. She must have been quite the topic of discussion around the water cooler, so to speak. She sat alone, but felt the eyes of everyone else boring into the back of her head. It wasn't the kind of attention she relished.

Her father had been quick to dismiss her yesterday, and she wasn't eager to relive being stung like that again, so she when she finished breakfast she walked right past the Regional Manager office to the hospital wing. Here was where agents were treated for wounds and injuries they sustained on the job before being sent back to their families, where nearby bag-and-tag targets were examined; here was where Elle had been born. She scoffed at the irony when she pushed her way past the doors and approached an older, bearded man in glasses and a white coat.

"Hello, Miss Bishop," he said politely as she approached. "It's good to see you again." She had always figured that people knew her name just because her father was in charge; that didn't quite account for the awkward, one-sided familiarity they seemed to have with her.

_The Haitian felt at least partially responsible for that._

"Is there something I can do for you?" the doctor asked. His smile was warm, fatherly even, as he closed his clipboard and turned his attention toward Elle.

"Yeah - wait a sec, what's your name?" Elle asked as she shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"I'm Dr. Hauser."

"Right, Dr. Hauser," Elle repeated flippantly, as though she had known his name all along. "If I were to, say, get a procedure done, it's private, right? No one is going to find out about it?"

Dr. Hauser looked up towards the ceiling, his head bobbing back and forth in thought. "Well, that depends. Is it something work-related?"

Elle stammered. "Sort of. Not really. It's private."

Dr. Hauser paused as his brow furrowed. He looked Elle in the eye, a concern in his tone that was almost genuine. "Is it something cosmetic, Miss Bishop? Because if it's not a necessary procedure, it's not generally something that we-"

"Listen to me, Four-Eyes," she growled, holding a ball of electricity in the palm of her hand. "Let's discuss this in private, and I'll tell you. And you're going to keep this absolutely quiet, or you'll have a world of hurt headed your way."

Dr. Hauser slowly inhaled, hesitant. "This way, Miss Bishop," he said finally, turning and leading her through the atrium and past private rooms until they reached his office.

"Now that we're alone, Miss Bishop, perhaps you'd like to fill me in on what's going on."

"I need an abortion," she replied, her voice low and level.


	9. Chapter 8

Angel with A Broken Watch, Chapter 8

The Haitian had halted for a moment, taking his hand away once again from Elle's pallid brow. The infant cried and cooed from a moment from the corner; the nurse was cleaning and cuddling him while Dr. Zimmerman recorded something on the chart on his clipboard.

The Haitian briefly considered how strange it was for him to know the ending of the story already, without knowing how everything fell into place for its characters. But they weren't just characters. The Haitian rarely considered the people whose minds he erased, but there were some - Sandra Bennet, for example, and now Elle - who he began to feel compassion for, after going through so many of their memories.

But these memories... these were the bad ones. The Haitian had seen enough memories to be able to judge the ones that were worth keeping, and the ones that everyone would rather put behind them, never to be thought about again. Still, he placed his hand back on Elle's head with a twinge of guilt and regret.

"An abortion?" the doctor repeated, frowning.

Elle rolled her eyes. "Could you have repeated that any louder? I don't know that they could hear you downstairs."

"I'm sorry, Miss Bishop, but I simply cannot comply." Dr. Hauser shuffled some paperwork across his desk in an effort to look busy and distracted, but Elle knew better. A ball of electricity sizzled in her hand; she could be pretty convincing that way. Still, Dr. Hauser didn't relent. "It has nothing to do with any personal moral compunctions, Miss Bishop, but Company policy is that, except in emergencies, we can only perform procedures like that once they've been approved by the regional manager."

Elle's eyes narrowed. "What would constitute an emergency in this case? You avoiding an electrical fire, perhaps?"

The doctor ignored her. "The regional manager, in this case, would be your father. And I imagine you don't want him to know; that's why you came here first."

Elle tossed the glowing electric ball back and forth between her hands. After refraining from using it during all the time she spent with Gabriel, she realized how much she missed it... or, rather, she missed all the fun she could have with it. "How far is your office from the burn unit? Just curious."

"Have you even been medically evaluated? How do you know that you're pregnant?" His voice contained a slight tone of concern, and Elle's heart stopped for a moment because it reminded her of Gabriel. She had to remind herself to inhale.

"I peed on a stick," Elle answered sardonically. Something about being back in the Company brought out the worst in her. She tried to ignore the bile that rose up in her throat whenever she spoke, as well as the spark that crawled across her skin simultaneously.

"I'll tell you what we can do, Miss Bishop," Dr. Hauser said, ignoring the tone of her last remark and walking to the front of his desk. He crossed his arms and leaned against it, looking down at her over the tops of his glasses. "I can schedule you for a medical evaluation tomorrow. Depending on what that yields, I'd be willing to, perhaps, overlook certain procedural paperwork."

Elle caught on to some sort of subtle subtext sublimating at the end of his statement. "What is it you want in exchange?" she asked, raising her eyebrow suspiciously.

"We'll discuss that if and when it becomes an issue," Dr. Hauser replied. "Right now, Miss Bishop, I suggest that you return to whatever it is you're supposed to be doing, and I'll see you tomorrow at..." He paused to glance at his scheduler, which lay open on the desk behind him. "Ten a.m. From what I understand, you've been away from the Company for quite a while. If anyone asks, for the sake of discretion, this is a simple check-up, nothing more."

"Great. Ten it is," Elle repeated, her lips pursed in frustration. She had been hoping for an outcome a little more definite, some sort of solution. Besides that, this Dr. Hauser was beginning to give her the creeps. The small hairs on the back of her neck crackled with an errant current of electricity; it was beginning to act up again. Still, like the obedient Company girl that she was born and bred to be, she returned to her Spartan room, and took out her frustration the best way she knew how. Sitting on the bed, she juggled small sparks between her fingers. She practiced her sharpshooting by aiming at the bars on the windows. She powered up and sent a powerful blast at the wall, crackling the paint and leaving scorch marks on the plaster underneath. By that afternoon the whole hall smelled like ozone.

She wanted this problem solved as quickly as possible. Once this matter was taken care of, she could stop worrying about losing control of her powers, and she could go back to Gabriel. That was the only reason she'd come back; she never intended to stay. The longer this would take, though, the more afraid she was that he wouldn't take her back.

The Haitian already knew that there was no going back for Elle now... she had already passed the point of no return.


	10. Chapter 9

Elle rose early the next morning after spending the rest of the previous day trying to avoid her father. She didn't realize the futility of it until tried to leave her room - the door was locked.

She had risen early, the gentle light of morning just barely brightening the room, casting shadows in shades of gray. She tried the door once, twice, three times, hoping it was just stuck, hoping that she had locked it herself by accident, afraid to admit to herself what she secretly knew to be true - she was a prisoner.

Her frustration expressed itself electrically, sparks crawling across her skin, each one bearing a twinge of pain. Desperately she began throwing herself against the door, sobbing, screaming "Somebody help me! Somebody let me out of here!" As far as she knew, the hallway on the other side of the door could be completely empty, or it could be crowded with people ignoring her cries for help. She'd been like that before.

Exhausted, Elle returned to her bed and slumped onto the mattress, head in her hands. She cursed herself for being stupid enough to come back to this place, to come back to her father - but what else was she supposed to do? She couldn't have let Gabriel on to her power; who knows what he would have done if he found out. He'd been consumed by covetousness before, and he'd killed for it. She'd have been risking her life by staying with him with her power out of control.

And that wasn't even considering what he might think about the wrench in the works that was currently wrenching her stomach with nausea. One hand wrapped around her midsection as she wondered how she could have let this happen.

She was wallowing so deeply in self-pity that she thought she was hearing things when the lock clicked and the door creaked open. She looked up and saw her father shutting the door behind him. He frowned as he put a hand into his pockets, taking a seat beside his daughter on the bed.

"What are you doing here?" Elle asked venomously. "You already locked me in, I don't need direct supervision."

"I brought you these," Bob said, offering her an prescription bottle stocked with tiny white pills. "They're for suppressing your power, since you have apparently forgotten how to control it."

"I haven't forgotten," Elle hissed back, still reaching for the bottle. A spark jumped between her hand and his, and she flinched. "How did you...?" she began to ask, but her father interrupted.

"We had Dr. Hauser's office bugged based on previous... indiscretions of his. Taking too many liberties with his female patients." Bob Bishop sighed, the deep sigh of a disappointed father. "So when were you going to disclose to me this little problem of yours?"

Elle knew he wasn't talking about her inability to control her electricity anymore. "Daddy, I was going to fix it. I am going to fix it."

"By 'fixing it' you mean avoiding having to take responsibility for your actions. That's not the kind of daughter I raised."

"Daddy, I tried..."

"Elle," Bishop put a hand on her shoulder, sternly gazing into her eyes. "I can forgive your little jaunt in the city. After all, you've lived here so long, it's only natural to see if the grass is greener, and so on. And now you've learned the hard way that it's not."

But it had been, the Haitian thought. Her memories with Gabriel had all been, for the most part, happy ones - not like the ones here, at the Company, with her father, with the training and the experiments and the torture she'd been subjected to nearly her entire life. Out there, at least, she'd found someone who loved her.

"I'm going back," Elle said fervently, almost panicked. "I'm going back to Gabriel. I'll take these pills, he'll never know..."

"Gabriel Gray just destroyed a family in California - a father, a mother, left their little girl an orphan." There was nothing but seriousness in his tone; he was stating a fact, not an argument. "Is that the kind of guy you want to go back to?"

For a moment Elle's mind returned to the first time she'd laid eyes on him - a dangling figure in the corner of a dusty watch shop, a man literally at the end of his rope. She thought she'd helped him come back from that, she thought she helped him find the value in his own life and the lives of others. She didn't want to believe he could go back to that. But she herself had been afraid of him, in spite of the way she felt about him otherwise, and her objections came forth weakly. "No... he didn't... he couldn't... you're lying to me."

"Their little girl is recovering from the shock in our facilities, if you'd like to meet her yourself. We've already got a team of agents looking to track him down."

"I wasn't going to let him be a monster," Elle whispered meekly.

Bob scoffed at his daughter as he stood to leave. "Looks like you've accomplished quite the opposite."

Another spark ran across the skin of her shoulder down her arm; her fingers followed it like an itch. Twisting the bottle cap open, Elle poured a few pills into her palm and swallowed them without even counting them first.

Bob was already opening the door and stepping into the hall. "I'll let you rest for a while, and I'll have someone bring you lunch. We can discuss your other indiscretion later."

The Haitian was wished, at that moment, that he could have been that someone who loved her.


	11. Chapter 10

She was back in his apartment, and he was standing there in the center of the room. His eyes glistened with tears behind his glasses, and she wanted to run to him - to embrace him, to run his hands through his hair, to cover him with kisses, to apologize for being such a wreck. But she couldn't move - she was frozen in place, and even as she opened her mouth to speak, no sounds came forth. She was trapped in awkward stillness, watching him, yearning for him, unable to go to him as she desired. He slowly turned over his hands until his palms were facing her - they were dripping with blood.

She gasped and bolted upwards in bed. For a moment she let her hands explore her surroundings as she tried to sort out what was real and what was not. It had been a dream one so vivid that her pillow was damp with tears - she'd been crying in her sleep. In a few minutes her shallow breath steadied itself and she wiped her cheeks with her hands before lying back down, afraid to drift back into sleep.

She shouldn't have been concerned. There was so much on her mind that her thoughts stumbled over one another, overlapping and struggling for her attention. Yes, Gabriel was a killer - he'd been so when she'd met him. Yes, she left him because she'd been afraid - no, it was more complicated than that. She left him because she lost control of her power. She blamed her physical state for that. She couldn't have gone to just any doctor to take care of it, not unless she was willing to burn down a medical office. Had she stayed any longer she risked him discovering her for what she was: not only special, but a liar on top of it.

Lost in her thoughts, Elle didn't move when her father let himself in. She buried her face in her arms as he solemnly sat beside her.

"Elle," he began, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes with his thumb and his forefinger. "After some careful consideration, I've decided it would be best for you if you terminate."

Her breath caught in her throat, but she would have been hard-pressed to explain why. Somehow, when it had been her decision, it had seemed a much more agreeable option. When it became her father's idea she immediately reconsidered.

"It'll be easier to pretend none of this ever happened. I'll chalk this one up as a rookie mistake and trust that nothing like this happens again. You can have it done downstairs in the hospital wing. I've already taken steps to ensure the utmost discretion. In a few days you can go out on missions again - a new partner, new opportunities -"

"No," she interrupted. "I don't want any of that."

"Elle, I understand your desire to rebel against me. But your refusal is nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction. Consider the consequences. You don't want to have a child just to spite me, do you?"

"No, of course not," she replied, matching his even, emotionless tone. "That would be an illogical and irrational reason."

"I'm glad you see it my way. I was afraid that you were misunderstanding me."

"I think _you're_ misunderstanding _me_, Daddy. I can _see_ it your way, but I'm still going to have it _my_ way."

"Elle, would you listen to yourself? You sound petulant and childish. How can you possibly think you're ready for something like this?"

"What's the matter, Daddy? Not ready to be a grandpa?"

Bob Bishop's eyes locked with hers, and he stared her down with his angry glare. "You are not taking this seriously, Elle."

His gaze effectively unnerved Elle, and her voice became childlike, wavering as she spoke next. "Just give me some time, Daddy. Please?"

Bob sighed with frustration. "Fine. Your appointment is for tomorrow afternoon. If you can come up with a good reason, I'll let it slide." He stood to leave, brushing the wrinkles from his pants as he walked towards the door. "A _good_ reason, Elle," he reiterated as he closed the door behind him.

_He remembered following Bishop to his daughter's room, waiting patiently outside without knowing what sort of hushed conversation was taking place just on the other side of the door. When Bob exited the room, he turned to the Haitian and said "If she goes anywhere, I want you to tail her. Whatever you do, don't let her leave the building." And suddenly his memory was jogged, and he recalled what was about to happen next before he got to Elle's now-fractured memory of it._

As soon as she heard the echoes her father's footfalls in the hallway fade away, Elle got out of bed and went to the door. She nearly jumped out of her skin, startled to find the Haitian standing solemnly on the other side.

_The Haitian thought it a strange sensation, watching himself in her memory._

"What... wait..." she sputtered momentarily as she calmed down. "My father put you here to stand guard, didn't he?"

The Haitian didn't reply, except by pressing his mouth into a thin line in a half-hearted attempt to smile.

"Can you take me to girl?" Elle asked. "The one whose family was killed by Sylar?"

The expression on the Haitian's face softened for a moment, a combination of confusion and pity. He nodded silently, gesturing for Elle to follow him. He strode down the hallway quickly, and she padded behind him in her bare feet, wondering what she would say to this little girl upon their meeting.


End file.
